


Sacrilege

by insanityintensifies



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Atheism, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Eönwë is a priest, M/M, Mairon doesn't like the church and doesn't believe in God, Naughty Confession, No Aulë or Yavanna hate, No Melkor, No Underage Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Priest Eönwë, Priest Kink, Religious Conflict, Religious Discussion, Roman Catholicism, The naughty bits start in chapter 2, Yavanna and Mahal are Mairon's parents, mairon needs a hug, there is trouble ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanityintensifies/pseuds/insanityintensifies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebel teenager Mairon is dragged to church by his parents three months before he becomes eighteen because 'Only God can help that child' and father Eönwë is faced with an unwilling and atheist teenager, who wants nothing less than being there. And who, after a very short timespan, uses every opportunity he gets to drop innuendos around the young churchman. The priest finds himself drawn to the young sinner, fighting hard not to commit acts of blasphemy and fall into sin himself.</p><p>Tags will be added as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrilege

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Little_buttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_buttercup/gifts).



When Mairon was woken up that morning his mood was already bad, since it was his mother who stood in front of his bed and had demanded loudly that he should wake up. "Hurry! You have to get ready, before we go to Mass!" "Why do I have to get ready for you and dad to go to the church?" The teenager mumbled sleepily, sitting up in his bed.

"You are coming with us. Now get up! I _won’t_ have you going like that and I _won’t_ be late." "As if I will come with you. I haven’t been to church in the last five years and I am _not_ planning on going now or anytime in the near future." "You _will_ come with us, your father and I have decided that it can only do you good to get closer to God again. And until you’re of age and as long as you are living under this roof you do as you’re told." The woman turned to leave her son's small bedroom. "Which won’t be the case in a little over three months anymore." Mairon shot back, glaring at his mother.

Yavanna turned back around to him with a glare full of suppressed anger. “Well, until then you will do as we say or there will be consequences.” She snapped curtly, before leaving the room. Mairon groaned in annoyance. He knew what his parents consequences looked like. They would take his phone, switch off the wifi and then complain if he read a book and didn't go outside, but if he went outside they would complain that they never knew where he was or what he was doing. And they would naturally assume that he was out drinking or doing drugs.

With another annoyed groan he got up and searched the top drawer of his dresser for underpants and a pair of socks, before going to the bathroom for a quick shower. Afterwards he put on black jeans and a black hoodie and then made his way into the kitchen. His father was drinking from a big cup of steaming, always sickeningly sweet tea while reading the newspaper. ‘ _We're the only family that still even gets one_ ’ Mairon thought and he shook his head. “Morning!” The teenager greeted his father, walking over to the fridge, only to look inside and find nothing. “Good morning, son. How did you sleep.” Aulë asked and it covered the sounds of his sons disappointed sigh.

“Fine. Where is the milk?” “I used the last for the tea.” “For _your_ tea.” His son pointed out, clearly annoyed. “Did you get a new one?” The lack of an answer was answer enough. “Oh, good. Not getting one yourself, but getting mad at _me_ when I forget to.” Mairon snorted, before leaving the kitchen to fetch a fresh carton of milk from the garage.

When he came back his mother was in the kitchen as well, loading the dishwasher, while his father was folding his newspaper. “Get ready.” His mother scolded him, “We leave in two minutes.” Holding up the milk in a wordless protest Mairon earned himself an angry glare and his mood only dropped further. With furrowed brows he harshly pulled open the fridge, put the milk into the door and threw it shut. “Mairon!” His mother called out, but he was already out in the hall by then.

After quickly putting on black chucks he left the house, leaving the door open and waited for his parents, leaning with his back against the car. A few, and definitely more than two, minutes later his parents came out too.

He got into the car wordlessly and didn’t talk while they drove, nor when he trotted after his parents into the church.

 

A quiet groan was his reaction when his parents sat down in the second row, the first being reserved for the children’s choir, when it was there. With his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders pulled up as if to hide he stared grumpily forward. When the organ began to play the teenager rolled his eyes, it seemed the choir wouldn’t be in today, which means the row they sat in would be the first now.

He could hear the door close and slumped further in his seat. From now on he would have to sit there for 90 minutes, without enough sleep and without breakfast, having to listen to meaningless chatter about some people’s big imaginary friend. It was just horrible. Mairon barely noticed when the priest passed them, preoccupied with his grumbling. He could still be asleep in his warm bed, instead of sitting here and listening to someone badly playing what was probably some religious song on the organ.

The terrible music stopped and there was a moment of silence, before a loud chant disrupted it. " _Kyrie, eleison!_ " The priest exclaimed in a singing voice, which finally caused the teen looked up, eyes slightly widening in surprise.The entirety of the gathered people, with the exception of Mairon, replied with another chant, before the priest sang again. The man’s voice was smooth and rang through the big hall, without any need for amplification. He had expected a man the age of his father, or older, but the man standing in front of them in a long black robe seemed only barely older than himself. Sure, he had to be at least twenty, but Mairon doubted he was over twenty-five.

His hair was a reddish blonde, short and the way his neck and hands looked led the redhead to assume about the rest of him. More chanting happened and his mother looked at him disapprovingly, since he didn’t take part in the chanting, but he didn’t care. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he had to sit in the first row. That way he had a good look on the man.

He spend the remaining time of the mass just listening to the others voice, trying to ignore what he was saying, but unwillingly picked up some of the content. At the end of the mass another chanting followed, but to Mairon’s pleasant surprise it did not involve the people responding to the priests singing and the young man found himself listening closely, perhaps for the first time in his life while he was in church.

When it was finally over and the first people started leaving, or moving to the side booths of the church to pray Mairon got up, but when he turned toward the exit his mother grabbed his shoulder. "Not so fast young man. You forgot that you still have some confessing to do!" " _Mum_!" Mairon groaned, but was interrupted before he could continue. "Don’t ' _Mum_ ' me. You _will_ go and you _will_ talk to him." Rolling his eyes at the woman the redhead began to walk through the church and over to the wooden confession booth located on the side, between two saint sculptures.

 

With one last annoyed look back at his mother the teenager opened the wooden door of the confessional, shaking his head disbelievingly. He couldn’t believe he was really going to do this, but what choice did he have after being dragged to the mass this morning? He looked around in the small booth, noticing the cross hanging from the wall, before kneeling down on the thinly cushioned kneeler, facing the dividing grille.

"In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost"

The young man fidgeted with his hands, completely oblivious about what he’s supposed to do. “Uhm… To be honest I have no idea what I’m supposed to say now.” He tells the priest on the other side and is surprised not to hear an annoyed sigh. His parents always expressed their disappointment with his disinterest in the church. Or maybe the man is just used to people like him.

When the other starts talking Mairon can’t help but notice that his voice sounds even more smooth close up than during the mass before.  “That is no problem. I will walk your through it. Usually one begins with doing the sign of the holy cross when I speak. Then it’s your turn and you say “Forgive me father for I have sinned,…” and add the time it has been since your last confession.” A small pause in which neither of them speaks. “You can say it now.” The priest informs him.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned,…” Mairon says reluctantly, stopping shortly, before adding “and it's been... _years_ since my first confession.”

“Now you have to tell me all sins you have committed.” “What is considered a sin?” The teenager immediately inquires and this time he does hear the priest sigh. “Son, are you here because you want to repent and earn forgiveness for the sins you have committed?” “No, I was dragged here, by my parents, because they think I need Jesus.” Another sigh is the first reply he receives, then “Are you willing to give it a try?”

That was not the reaction he had expected. He had expected the other to be upset, to tell him there was no point in him being there if he didn’t want to be there, or even to throw him out, but the last option would possibly go against some church rules. He shrugs, but then remembers the other can’t exactly see him and he replies “I will be dragged back every Sunday anyway and if I don’t talk to you I will have to listen to accusations all week, so I might as well do this until I’m eighteen and they can’t force me anymore.”

“Alright, we’ll start slow. Let’s see how far we get in the next months.” “Fine. What happens now?” “Since you don’t know what is considered as sin, I’m going to ask you questions. I want you to answer those sincerely and as accurately as possible.” Mairon just hums in agreement.

“Have God and the pursuit of sanctity in Christ been the goal of your life?” “You already know they haven’t.” “I’m just going through everything. There are other people waiting outside who don’t have time all day. We’re not going to cover all possible things this time anyway, so I want you to listen closely and remember the questions I am asking you. Then next time you can tell me which of them applied to you, before we go on to the next.” “Fine.”

“Have you denied your faith?” “Denied my faith - Meaning I am an atheist? Then yes.”

Again the priest sighs. “Have you used God's name in a profane way in your speech?”

“What?” “Have you sworn in any way that included the name of God or his son Jesus Christ?” “Like “God damn’it”?” “Yes.” He can hear the other gritting his teeth. “Then yes.”

“Have you..” But the redhead interrupts him, before the priest can continue. “Does “Holy shit!” count as well?” “I think it does.” “Then count that, too.”

He can’t see the other, but he’s sure the man is shaking his head. However, he continues without commenting further on the swearing.“Have you broken a solemn vow or promise?” “Not that I know of.” “Well, that’s something.”

“Have you honored every Sunday by celebrating the Mass or were you inattentive and neglected prayer for a long time?” “The latter.” “I want you to say it.” Mairon rolls his eyes, but repeats the others words. “I haven’t been to Mass on Sundays, nor have I prayed. For years.” Another sigh.

 

“Have you shown respect to your parents?” This time the teenager doesn’t reply immediately, but when he does it’s just one word. “No.”

Instead of another sigh, like he expected, or a lecture on how he should have done so the other inquires “Why not?” and it catches the young man off guard.

“Why should I? Just because they _made_ me? I did not _ask_ to be put into this world and if I had, certainly not by _them_. I have no _reason_ to be thankful for anything. And don’t start with the whole “but they provide a home for you and food” I get told that _at least_ twice a day and you know what? That’s the _bare necessity_ of being a parent. If you can't or aren’t willing to provide that, don’t have children. I legally cannot support myself on my own, but rest assured, that as soon as I can, I will. I am not staying with them _any_ _minute_ longer than I have to.” He only stops his rant to take a deep breath, before continuing.

“There are two ways in which people understand what it means to treat someone with respect. One is that treating someone with respect is treating them as a person, the other is treating them as authority. And my parents don’t get that. For them it’s both the same. Which means that if I don’t treat them like authority, they don’t treat me like a person. And that, in my opinion, doesn’t _deserve_ respect. In any way. Respect, in the sense of treating someone as a person of authority, has to be _earned_. And they haven’t earned that. That’s why.” His hands are shaking, his voice had been steady until he stopped talking, but now he has to swallow to try and get rid of the lump in his throat. He had told the other far more than he had intended to, far more than he had ever told anyone and he’s half on his feet, wanting to leave the booth, as the others voice stops him.

“ _Kneel_.”

It’s one simple word, spoken harsher and deeper than everything he had heard the other say up until now, but the effect it has on him is immense. Mairon immediately freezes on the spot. He doesn’t move to leave, but he also doesn’t move to kneel down again.

“Son,...” comes the others voice, softer again “Kneel down again.”

And with only a small bit of reluctance left Mairon knelt down again, still frowning. "You have bottled this up for a long time." It wasn’t a question.

"You have committed a lot of sins and usually I would tell you to do four "Our Fathers" and three "Hail Marys"and tell you that if you repent for your sins and avoid repeating them and you will receive God’s mercy, but I doubt that that would do any good this time." "I don’t even know how a 'Our father' or a 'Hail Mary' goes to be honest…" Mairon replied in a small voice. "Then that is your task till next Sunday." The priest replies. "Look it up on the Internet so you know it for next time. Otherwise just take care of yourself. Next week we will cover the next few questions." Mairon nodded in response, again forgetting that the other couldn’t see him, then replied "Alright."

Again he was half on his feet when the priest spoke again. "How old are you, exactly?" "In three months I will be eighteen and you can bet I will be out of my parents home as soon as possible." "Do you know where you will go?" "Why are you asking?" "Just something for you to think about. Three months seems a long time, but they are over faster than you think." The redhead was at loss what to reply and he remained silent, but it seemed the other had not expected a reply, as he continued talking a moment later.

"You are free to go now, may peace be with you and may God watch over you." " _Yeah, whatever_." Mairon snorts. "You’re supposed to say 'Thank you, father'" "You are not my father." The other chuckled "No, I’m not. It’s a title. Like 'Lieutenant' in the army, or like you call a teacher 'Mister'" "Oh, alright. Then thank you father." Mairon left the booth, leaving the other behind to deal with the small queue of people that was standing there, waiting for their turn to confess.

 

He didn't speak at all on the way home, thinking about the conversation he had just had, the first meaningful one in months.

**Author's Note:**

> The characters, unfortunately, are not mine.  
> All rights on them belong to J. R. R. Tolkien and I don't make any money from this.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments and feedback are more than welcome! Every artist thrives under feedback.
> 
> Find me on tumblr! [@insanityintensifies](https://insanityintensifies.tumblr.com/)


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